


destiny is calling me (open up my eager eyes)

by endoftheline7



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Season/Series 03, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, F/M, Jealous Arthur, M/M, Oblivious Merlin, Promiscuity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endoftheline7/pseuds/endoftheline7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur would unite the lands of Albion, one day. Merlin thought that day could actually come, if only Arthur stopped getting into <em>moods</em> all the time.</p><p>(Or: five times Arthur was jealous and Merlin didn't notice, and the one time he did.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	destiny is calling me (open up my eager eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> please don't call me out for pairing everyone off I have a lot of love to give :))))
> 
> also y e s the title is from the hit song mr. brightside, what a classic

 

 

> _i. will_

 

Merlin could be considered something of a late bloomer.

He didn't really become fully _aware_ of his dick until late in his sixteenth year, while most of the boys in Ealdor seemed to come into their own a few years earlier. He knew this mostly because of Will, and his long, in-depth descriptions of what it felt like to touch yourself. Merlin... Well, Merlin had never really been that interested. He'd been hard before of course, and woken up sticky one too many times, but he tended to just ignore things like that- he didn't have enough time, privacy, or interest. His wayward magic took priority over persistent teenage arousal.

Then one morning he woke up hard, a regular occurrence, but his mother was out collecting herbs, leaving him alone in the hut with nothing but his own hand and all the privacy in the world. And so his hand found its way down his breeches and Merlin bloomed, so to speak. It lasted only a few mere minutes but it was _exhilarating_. A heady rush of power mixed with a violent wave of physical pleasure that Merlin had never even come close to experiencing before- not even with _magic_.

He told Will all about it the next day, fumbling over his words with a blush fresh on his cheeks as they laid in the long grass together. "It was... _amazing_ ," he gushed, looking expectantly to Will, preparing for a good-natured shove or some teasing laughter. But Will was quiet, unresponsive, not at all like Merlin had imagined. He felt put out, but it didn't last long, since he happened to look down, and _oh_.

"It's not what you think," Will valiantly defended.

"It's _exactly_ what I think," Merlin replied, breathless, lurching forward to press their mouths together clumsily.

It was not the few kisses he'd stolen from girls as a child, sickly sweet and hesitant in their innocence. There was _purpose_ here. Intent. _Desire_. Will clutched back at him, and Merlin _noticed_. Noticed the slight brush of stubble against his face, the broadness of Will's shoulders as he spread his palms across them, the hard line of Will's arousal against his leg; real, tangible proof that somebody _wanted_ him. _Him_. Gangly, annoying Merlin, with his overgrown frame and too-large ears.

"How do we...?"

"I'll show you," Will gasped, having an unfair advantage due to his legions of friends who probably all explained how it worked to him.

He made quick work of Merlin's breeches, unlacing them in record time despite his shaking fingers. He made contact with skin and Merlin arched. "I've got you. It's alright," Will repeated. The hot summer sun bore down on them and Merlin wound his fingers into the grass, upturning all sorts of flowers and plants here and there, all the while being deflowered himself. By _Will_ , of all people. He decided he liked it- the set of his jaw, the curve of his cock. Merlin _liked_ it. He'd never given much thought to _girls_ , let alone boys, but... Men. He liked _men_. Not boys and their silly games. Men and their wandering hands.

He liked... Will. He _loved_ Will, actually. Will: his dearest friend, his companion through boyhood- Will was now a _man_.

(One that Merlin would think of often in years to come, especially on hot, sunny summer days. He would think of meadows and sunshine and breathless laughter; rather than storms and screams and blood. He would think of joy and pleasure, rather than sorrow and guilt. _Remember the good things,_ he'd tell himself, and so he did. He'd remember mumbled conversations hidden in the grass and lips pressed together with intent. He remembered the good things.

But as he said goodbye to the first person he ever loved, all that had bloomed, died. He would remember that too.)

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, as Merlin watched the stubborn-willed man his friend had grown into burn, wandering hands and all. "I know he was a close friend."

_Closer than you could even begin to imagine._

Merlin was quiet on the ride home. Gwen and Morgana rode up ahead, and he was thankful for their inane chatter that filled the awful, torturous silence between him and Arthur.

"You loved him," Arthur remarked all of a sudden, apparently not so clueless after all, keeping his voice low and quiet so the girls wouldn't overhear. "You were... Were you... More?" He finished lamely, seemingly struggling for words. "I assumed how... You know, with Lancelot. I suppose... Will..."

"Yes," Merlin admitted, so small he was barely even whispering. "Does it bother you?" He asked, glancing over and noticing the tightness of Arthur's face; his clenched jaw and the crease of his brow. "Me and Will? Me and Lancelot?"

He flushed in shame at Merlin's worried expression, shaking his head. "No," he answered. "It doesn't bother me."

 _Well it obviously fucking does,_ Merlin thought, glaring at Arthur's fists that clutched tight on the reigns and fuming over the way he refused to look Merlin in the eye, swallowing and keeping his gaze fixed on the ground.

"Not like that," he could swear he heard Arthur whisper.

But he was still just looking at the ground.

It must've been the grief. Making Merlin hear things. Nothing to worry about.  

    

 

> _ii. lancelot_

 

Lancelot was kind and brave and beautiful and Merlin was head over heels for him. It wasn't even _romantic_ , necessarily, because while Merlin would of course be open to a more carnal connection, his sheer admiration and respect for the man outweighed any kind of desire for a relationship. Lancelot was beautiful, yes, but he was so noble and good that Merlin was in awe that a human like that could even _exist_. Attraction be damned. Lancelot was far too good for him.

"Thank you," he uttered again, gratitude simply seeping from him as they retired to Merlin's room, sinking down on the bed next to each other. "You didn't have to keep my secret."

"And you didn't have to do all that you have done for me. But you did."

Merlin beamed. Lancelot was so... _sincere_. So honest. What a nobleman _should_ be, really. And while Arthur _did_ have his moments of courage and nobility from time to time, they were usually watered down by his tendency to act like a prize prat most days.

"You are a good man, Lancelot. Better and braver than most Knights." Lancelot smiled sweetly and shook his head dismissively, waving him off.

"As are you, my friend." 

"Don't be stupid," Merlin laughed, amusement clouding his senses at the very notion of being on the same level as _Lancelot_. Lancelot was bold and selfless and strong and... sitting far too near to him for it to be an accident. Merlin was literally shocked out of his laughter, eyes flicking up to Lancelot in surprise.

"I mean it," he said, low and close. Soft. Merlin swallowed.

"You'll stay one more night?" He forced out, changing the subject.

"Yes," Lancelot murmured, and shifted on the bed, gaze trailing nervously up at Merlin. "Merlin, I-"

He didn't seem to have the patience to finish his sentence, and before Merlin could process what was happening, Lancelot kissed him. It was quick and chaste, an unsure press of lips and nothing more, but Merlin's heart leapt into his throat. _Lancelot_. Beautiful, strong Lancelot, who was soft and warm and valiant and tough all at once. Lancelot who he wasn't sure if he loved as either a brother or a lover. Both, perhaps.

"But, I, you," he stammered, " _Gwen_. You want _Gwen_."

"She is lovely," Lancelot admitted. "But so are you."

 _Lovely_. It was not a word Merlin had heard directed at himself before.

"I... Really?"

"Kiss me," Lancelot encouraged, head swaying precariously into Merlin's personal space, warm brown eyes guileless; hoping and wanting. " _Please_."

So Merlin went for it. Grasped at Lancelot's pretty hair and hauled him forward, parting his lips with a relieved groan, falling into his embrace like it was a second nature. And it _was_. Kissing Lancelot felt _right_ , like something Merlin was always meant to do. He thought inexplicably of Will- they loved each other more than anything, but it wasn't exactly _affectionate_. Just quick, exploratory fumblings under the sun and stuttered moans. Maybe it'd be different if Merlin went back to Ealdor now, older and more experienced, but then again, maybe not. Will was a teenage discovery. A first love. Lancelot was an adult decision. And here he was, taking Merlin on a real bed in a real room, muttering things like _darling_ and _sweetheart_ and holding him so _gently_.

"Lovely," Lancelot whispered again once he was inside him, gazing down at Merlin in dazed wonder, smoothing his sweat-slick hair back from his forehead. "You're so lovely."

(There was that word again. Merlin would think of it in five years time when Lancelot married Gwen, that sweet smile pointed at her rather than him. _Lovely_ , he'd think, void of bitterness and filled with happiness. He'd think of the intoxicating intensity of Lancelot's kisses and his heart would lift in joy for Gwen. They deserved each other. Merlin would always have this one night, encased in honesty and incorruption and magic. Always.)

 "Goodbye, my friend," he said the next morning. "We will see each other again. I am sure of it."

"Till the next time then, Sir Lancelot," Merlin muttered to his retreating form.

One day he would return.

But it just made Merlin's awareness of his absence all the more relentless; the understanding that they would see each other again, that they _had_ to, made him long for Lancelot and the way his mouth formed the word _lovely_ even more. Rushed tumbles with stable hands and fellow servants only reminded him of who he _really_ wanted above him, and once he discovered fucking the pain away wouldn't succeed, he threw himself into his work.

"Everything alright, _Mer_ lin?" Arthur teased, "you've been more efficient than usual."

"How very observant of you, Sire. That's a change."

Merlin dodged the boot thrown at his head with a quiet laugh, managing to return in tact with Arthur's chainmail. Arthur just sighed.

"Really, Merlin, are you sure you're alright?" He prompted, and Merlin was bewildered to hear what he thought was actual concern in his tone.

"I'm fine."

"Is this about Lancelot?" Merlin's head shot up, giving himself away, and Arthur softened. "I'm sorry, Merlin, if I had it my way he would've-"

"But you don't," Merlin interrupted. "You don't have it your way. And you aren't the reason he left. Now I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask me to talk about it."

"I... Fine. But _I'd_ appreciate it if your efficiency wasn't driven by sadness. Go, take the day off or something. Cheer _up_ , Merlin," he pleaded.

Merlin frowned. "Why? Why do _you_ care? Wouldn't you prefer a manservant who does his job properly?"

"Well..." Arthur shifted awkwardly on his feet, not meeting Merlin's eyes. "No. Um, not exactly." His gaze darted upwards and at Merlin's imploring stare he sighed, gave in. "Quite frankly, Merlin, you're _boring_ like this. I prefer... you. Old you. Even if he was terrible at his job."

"Better than being boring _all_ the time, I suppose. You'd know all about that, Sire," he responded cheekily, and Arthur's offended scoff was enough to lift his mood immensely.

"Remember who you're talking to, _Mer_ lin. I could have you thrown in the stocks for your insolence."

"I thought without my insolence I was boring? Make up your _mind_ , prat."

Arthur grinned. "That's _Prince_ Prat to you, Merlin." Merlin huffed, holding in his mirth the way he usually did with Arthur. A surprisingly strained silence stretched between them as he finished dressing him, and was only broken by the cause of yet more tension between them. "Merlin... were you... Were you and Lancelot..."

"Don't," he snapped. "That's none of your business. I asked you not to talk about it."

"Sorry," Arthur muttered, but Merlin's dismissal instead of refusal seemed to be answer enough for him, and he stepped quickly away from Merlin, striding from his chambers and down to the training field without even ordering Merlin to do anything else. He _had_ said he could take the day off, but... this unspoken occurrence between Merlin and Lancelot appeared to have irritated Arthur. It wasn't uncommon, really. Many people were disdainful of the concept of two men together. Merlin had just assumed Arthur might've been a little more tolerant.

Apparently not.  

 

 

> _iii. freya_

 

Merlin liked men.

Freya was not a man.

Her body, her lips, her voice... They were all so undeniably _feminine_ , something Merlin hadn't really given much consideration to. But she smelt of sweat and fear and she was so, so special. She was like _him_.

"Merlin," she gasped. "I'm-"

"I know," he murmured, trailing his lips against the soft, vulnerable skin on the inside of her thigh.

Neither of them really knew their way around each other's bodies. Merlin had only really been with men and Freya didn't seem to have been with anyone at all. But it didn't matter. He was dizzy off even being around someone like him and she was a quick learner. Their connection was almost too much to bear- they were different, they were _abnormal,_  they were together. They were magic, uniting.

"We'll go somewhere no one knows us," he assured her the next day. "Somewhere far away."

And he meant it. Arthur, his destiny, the sides of a fucking coin... none of it seemed to matter anymore. _Freya_ was what mattered. Here was someone Merlin could _be_ with- _truly_ be with. He could be the valiant saviour, the sweet and helpful serving boy, the clever, resourceful hand that fed her and smuggled her to safety. He could be himself. He could be whoever he wanted to be. She would love him. And he would love her.

He _did_.

He knew it, as she laid in his arms. "You made me feel loved," she said, grateful and dying, and all Merlin could think was _you were. You were loved._

He didn't want repayment. He just wanted people he loved to stop fucking leaving or dying. But Merlin had never been lucky in love.

(He would always ache when he thought of Freya, even decades into the future. It wasn't the same kind of ache he had when he thought of Will- it could never even come close. He had known Will since he was a boy. Will had been his first love, his childhood sweetheart. But at least he and Will had a clear ending. He and Freya were never even allowed a beginning, let alone a full story.

Merlin would say Freya was the one that got away, if he spoke in cliché's.

The ache when he thought of her was one that uttered _almost_. They almost made it. She almost lived. The ache was one that held the potential of all their future days together. Oh, what they could've been.)

He cried himself to sleep more than one night in a row, arriving to work with little sleep more often than not, kept awake by despair and determined nightmares. His conversation with Arthur had cheered him up momentarily, but it was weeks before the ache for Freya began to numb. And even then, he couldn't forget. Couldn't ignore the memory of her tearful goodbye and the boat enveloped in flames. Every step he took was another knife to the heart. The blows weren't softened by the fact that apparently _everybody seemed to notice._

Gauis, knowing the cause, doted on Merlin a little more than usual, having his favourite meal on the table more than once a week and waking him up much gentler than he used to. Gwen, ever observant, gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and asked if he wanted to have a chat about boys, which was _violently_ embarrassing, because in any other situation, she probably would've been right. Morgana shook her head fondly at her maidservant and proceeded to drag Merlin to the tavern, which really _really_ was no place for a lady of Morgana's status.

"Don't talk," she said, smirking at his questioning look. "Drink."

Morgana's method of comforting him was the best of anybody's. Far, _far_ better than Leon's bear hugs that he insisted on subjecting Merlin to every time he saw him. He wouldn't be surprised if _Uther_ got in on the action soon enough, just to put the cherry on top of the very humiliating cake.

And then... There was Arthur. He didn't seem to know what to do, and therefore alternated between acting as if nothing was different or treating Merlin like he was ridiculously fragile and in danger of breaking down any minute. Which, well... he was. But it didn't mean Merlin preferred the latter.

"Are you sure you're alright, Merlin?" Arthur asked for possibly the hundredth time in the last two weeks, disregarding the papers on his desk to focus on Merlin.

"I'm _fine_. Shut up."

"Do you want to talk about what's upsetting you? I'm guessing it wasn't when I threw water on you?" Merlin gritted his teeth, and decided to just ignore him, turning his attention back to the boots he was polishing with a new fervour. "Is it..." Arthur hesitated, a blush spreading up his neck. "Boy trouble?"

Merlin burst out laughing, abandoning his task in favour of clutching his stomach as he attempted to get his laughter under control. Arthur glared at him, cheeks pink. "Have you been talking to _Gwen?"_

"No! Well... No, I..." Merlin raised an eyebrow, and Arthur sighed in defeat. "Yes." Scowling at Merlin's fresh burst of laughter, he busied himself by pretending to rearrange the papers on his desk, trying to hide the flush on his skin. "I was... worried."

"What? About _me?"_

"Yes _Mer_ lin, about _you_ , who else would it be?" Merlin didn't say anything, just smirked up at Arthur, smug. He didn't retaliate to Merlin's smirk, unusually, and just worried his lip, seeming apprehensive. "Look, I just... I'm. _Is_ it boy trouble?"

"No. No, not boy trouble."

There must've been something in the way he said _boy_ , because Arthur cocked his head, understanding creeping onto his face. "...Girl...trouble?" At Merlin's guilty avoidance of his eyes, he did a double take. "A _girl?_ But... I thought... I didn't think you liked..."

"Neither did I," Merlin muttered.

"Oh," Arthur said, looking dumbstruck and disappointed. "Another... Oh." He swallowed thickly, shutting his eyes and breathing deeply, seemingly working through something before he spoke again. "What, um. What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Merlin, you know you can ta-"

"Can you just _leave_ it?" He hissed. "I'm _fine_." Arthur looked startled at Merlin's vehemence, and looked down, abashed, mumbling apologies. Now _Merlin_ felt bad. He sighed. "I'm sorry for snapping, it's just... How would you feel if I asked you about Gwen?"

"What do you mean? She only mentioned what she thought might be upsetting you, I don't think she meant anything by it."

"No I mean... In terms of girl trouble."

"What does _Gwen_ have to do with that?" Arthur questioned incredulously.

"You know, you and her? Don't tell me you've forgotten already!" Merlin exclaimed, almost offended on behalf of Gwen. He'd thought Arthur actually _liked_ her.

"What- the kiss? That happened _once_ , Merlin. We aren't about to _elope_ ," Arthur explained, scoffing at Merlin as if the idea of it was completely unfounded.

"But I thought... I thought you loved her?"

" _Loved_ her? Bloody hell, no. We kissed. Once. In the heat of the moment. It was nothing more than that. She was pining for Lancelot and I was..." He trailed off, pinking before fixing his eyes back on the work he hadn't been doing in the first place. The corner of Merlin's lip curled up and he dropped the boot, suspicious.

"You were...?" He prompted, grin beginning to spread across his face.

"Nothing," Arthur babbled, voice practically a squeak.

"Oh, come on. Tell me," Merlin begged, and Arthur just shook his head, an edge of panic starting to work its way into his movements. "Were _you_ pining for someone? _Are_ you?"

"No one. It's nothing," Arthur mumbled, standing up and shoving his chair back with a horrible squeak as it scraped against the floor. He was flushed and his breathing was laboured. Merlin frowned, all joviality trickling away.

"Arthur? Are you alright?"

"Fine," Arthur repeated, and Merlin only registered the waver in his voice until he'd already marched from his chambers.

Arthur really was _strange_ sometimes. But at least trying to figure it out would give Merlin an adequate distraction for a while. 

 

 

> _iv. gwaine_

 

Merlin knew before their second meeting was even over that he and Gwaine were going to fuck. He _knew_.

Gwaine stretched his arms out behind his head and rattled off some cliché one-liner about why he helped them, and it was obvious. Merlin could tell from the mischievous glint in his eye and the way his gaze assessed Merlin, eyes scanning him up and down appreciatively. Merlin wouldn't have been surprised if Gwaine propositioned him right then and there, but he had to get to work, so just smirked back at Gwaine instead, as if to say _soon_.

And soon it was.

"If there's one thing that I learned from my father's life, it's that titles... don't mean anything. It's what's inside that counts," Gwaine said, surprisingly wise. For a moment, that was. "Or, you know. What's under your clothes," he whispered lewdly, leaning in close, and Merlin scoffed, shaking his head.

" _After_ ," he warned. "Let's get this done first."

With a new encouraging factor and more insistent flirting, the task seemed to be done in no time, and they were stumbling into Merlin's room in under an hour. Gwaine didn't mess around, it seemed, as Merlin was immediately shoved onto the bed as Gwaine climbed on top of him, hands reaching for his breeches.

"You seem to know what you're doing," Merlin remarked, panting for breath as Gwaine's hand tugged at him.

"Well, not to boast, but I tend to be pretty popular with everyone for this kind of thing. I'm a people person, what can I say?"

Merlin huffed a laugh, dragging Gwaine down for a messy kiss, moaning into his mouth. This, being with Gwaine... It was seamless. It was easy. The simplest thing Merlin had done for a long time, really. With other people, there had always been complications of a sort. There had always been consequences. But for once, Merlin didn't want to care about consequences. Damn them all. If he wanted to have sex with a person that wasn't someone he'd probably end up seeing on a daily basis afterwards, then he would.

And he'd _like_ it.

Being with Gwaine really _was_ different, though. It wasn't the seemingly endless teenage passion with Will, the shy and steady exploration with Lancelot, or the awkward, clueless discovery with Freya. It wasn't quick groping sessions with serving staff in different dark corners of the castle. Gwaine was new and real and temporary and Merlin couldn't get enough of it.

"Giving or receiving?" Gwaine murmured in his ear, and Merlin _laughed_ , openly and suddenly.

"I'm up for anything," he quipped, and Gwaine chuckled.

"My kind of man."

Merlin flipped him onto his back with a sudden burst of strength, and with his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, Gwaine grinned.

They staggered out of Merlin's rooms a little while later, soft and sated.

"Well, we'll have to do that one again, eh, Merlin?"

"Definitely," Merlin agreed, and they nearly didn't get the chance. Gwaine very nearly became another Lancelot.

But seconds after he shut the door to Gauis' chambers, shamefully banished, he came bounding back in, striding towards Merlin with a purposeful spring in his step. "Forgot something," he declared, clasping the back of Merlin's neck and kissing him ardently. He smiled and sank to his knees and then the rest was a blur. His banishment was temporarily postponed.

And then again, before sunset the next day: Gwaine, his fingers digging into Merlin's hips and lips pressed against his collarbone. Merlin wanted him, wanted this. Wanted it all the time. _Stay,_ he thought, hopeful, _stay with me and fight by Arthur's side._

No.

They all left.

"Goodbye, Merlin," Gwaine shouted up from the ground below, lifting a hand in farewell, and Merlin almost blushed at all the attention he was drawing. "We'll have to do this again sometime."

(They wouldn't get the chance. Soon Merlin would become unavailable and Gwaine would meet Percival and become faithful for the first time in his life, ecstatic and in love. Merlin would be the first to congratulate him.)

Gwaine finally trudged through the archway and disappeared. Merlin's beam was wiped off his face when he happened to see the accusatory expression on Arthur's face. "Well _you_ seem very _friendly_ ," he commented bitterly, turning to glare at the empty archway Gwaine had disappeared through.

"Why should you care?"

"I don't," Arthur defended. "But you don't half get around, _Mer_ lin. Ever think about _not_ shagging your way through Camelot's residents?"

"Oh what, and you're completely virginal? Yeah, right. _You're_ in no place to berate me. You're the Crown Prince. You must get _loads_ of action." Arthur didn't say anything, just averted his eyes shiftily. A creeping suspicion seized at Merlin. "You're... not completely virginal, right? You do get loads of action? You can't be a...a..."

"A virgin?" Arthur snapped, face flaming. "So what if I am?"

"But I... You're the _prince_. Girls are supposed to _throw_ themselves at you!"

"It's not _like_ that," Arthur admitted miserably. "With visiting Ladies, you _can't_ \- they have to wait until they're married. There wouldn't be any privacy in the Castle and I can't just slip off into the woods with one of them."

"But... the serving girls?"

Arthur looked disgusted that he'd even asked. "I _wouldn't_ ," he vowed, and at Merlin's baffled frown he rolled his eyes. "How am I supposed to know they actually want it? They could just do it under the obligation of serving. I wouldn't _do_ that."

"So you... You've never..." It was hard for Merlin to even connect the dots in his head. Arthur... Gorgeous, noble, Arthur; the Crown Prince of Camelot, greatest swordsman in the land and Once and Future King... was a virgin. And here Merlin was, the boy who got annoyed last month that he wasn't getting fucked at least weekly. Wow.

"No," Arthur sighed. "I've never."

"But you're so..." Arthur raised an eyebrow expectantly, urging Merlin to continue. "...self-assured," Merlin finished, provoking a scoff from Arthur.

"Yes, because all virgins are stuttering cowards. Thank you for your insight, Merlin."

"Sorry. Well, you know. Is there anyone you want to... be with?"

Arthur looked over at Merlin, eyes guarded. "There might be someone," he muttered, looking back to the crowds of citizens below.

"Anything I can help with?"

"No, you... They aren't interested," Arthur bit out, and any other person would've just thought he was sulking, but Merlin had known him for years, and, well. Arthur looked _hurt_. Arthur looked _heartbroken_. Merlin felt a stab of pity for him.

"Then they're a fool, Arthur," he comforted, patting Arthur's shoulder and Arthur choked- _laughing_ , of all things.

"Yes, Merlin," he agreed, sobering and turning to gaze softly at him. "They are."  

 

 

> _v. morgana_

 

Morgana was different, now. She was quieter, less gratuitous with her smiles. Merlin missed her smiles. There had never been anything... untoward, between them, despite the way Arthur may have teased him when Morgana was first discovering her magical abilities. But Merlin had been her friend, and he missed her smiles. But he wasn't even sure he _was_ her friend, now.

He wasn't so sure who she was anymore.

Which is why he was nearly paralysed with fear when Gwen told him she wanted to see him. He made the journey up to her rooms as slow as possible, taking the longest route and climbing the stairs at a snails pace. Morgana could kill him, if she wanted. Or at least try. Was he about to lose her to evil forever? Was it just like the Dragon had warned?

But he needn't have worried.

"I see the way you look at me," she mumbled, staring at her hands as she sat opposite him. "The fear. The suspicion. The distrust." She glanced up at him over the table, meeting his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt anyone."

"I'm sorry, Morgana," he confessed, and it was true. He knew better than anyone that her situation was a tough one. He could only be making it worse. "It's just... The past year. Nobody knows where you were. I didn't know what had happened to you. I just thought..."

"That I was with Morgause? Yes. I was. I lied. To everyone." Merlin began dreading her next words. "I knew how everyone would scrutinise me if they knew I'd lived with a High Priestess for a year so I lied to their faces. And I lied about loving Uther. I despise him. Is that what you expected to hear?"

"Um, yes?" Merlin registered her words. "Wait, do you-"

"Yes. I mean it. I hate Uther. He's relentlessly cruel and intolerant of magic-  something that is woven into the very foundation of my being." Merlin's brow creased with worry and he opened his mouth to respond, but Morgana beat him to it. "But I don't hate Arthur."

"How do I know you mean that?"

"You don't. But Arthur is good. He will be a kinder and braver King than Uther ever was. He might even be more open to magic without his father's constant brainwashing. He will be King one day, preferably soon, and Camelot will be a better place for it."

"I know," was his murmured reply. His insides warmed. Arthur- kind? Occasionally. Brave? All the time. Merlin loved him for it. "But you won't do anything drastic? To speed up the time until Arthur's reign?"

"What, like kill Uther? That's what you're asking, isn't it?" At Merlin's sheepish smile, she pursed her lips in amusement. "No. I was once told my magic could be a force for good. I want to believe that. Murder wouldn't exactly uphold _anyone's_ moral values."

"It'd uphold Uther's," Merlin muttered, and Morgana huffed a laugh.

She rose from her chair and moved to his side of the table, taking a seat next to him and smiling at him openly. "Thank you for understanding, Merlin. And for keeping my secret."

"It isn't a problem." He hesitated, considering. Wanting. Could he really involve someone else in this? After all these years? Just putting himself in danger like this? Then again, it was _Morgana_ , and she was magic herself. Maybe... "You know... You know you're not alone, right?"

Morgana smiled, sad. "But I _am_ , Merlin. Here in Camelot. I'm alone."

"No, that's the thing, Morgana," he whispered, practically shaking in fear, heart in his throat, "you aren't."

Then with a flick of his hand, a flash of his eyes and a few words uttered, he revealed himself. It was nothing extravagant- just the simple procedure of floating a flower over to her, winding it into her hair with only the force of his mind. She gazed at him in shock, eyes brimming with joyful tears, face seeping with grateful acceptance.

"You- magic. You're magic. You have magic," she rambled, so un-Morgana like it almost made him laugh. "Oh, Merlin!" She exclaimed in delight, clasping his hands in her own.

"I'm like you," he explained. "I was born this way. This is who I am. I'm magic. I'm... Emrys."

With a broken gasp of happiness, she released his hands only to throw her arms around him, a physical display of the understanding and camaraderie blooming between them. Their quiet and admittedly rocky friendship leaped, soaring in solidarity as Morgana pressed her face into his neck. He felt her breath against his jaw and the pads of her fingers against his nape, baby-soft and slight, and he stilled. The moment felt delicate; the bright, crisp elation between them felt seconds from breaking.

And it did.

She pulled back, giddy and thrilled, and possibly by chance, her eyes glanced to his lips. Merlin's breath caught in his throat. Morgana wasn't in love with him and he wasn't in love with her. She had been devoted to Gwen for a long time and Merlin was only just coming to grips with possible feelings for Arthur. This wasn't right, or responsible, but... Why not? He was feeling brave today. _To hell with it,_ he thought, and pushed his mouth against hers.

It was only the magic, really.

It was _their_ magic, to be precise, reaching towards each other, desperate for companionship. The same had happened with Freya- although he had grown to love her soon enough, when he first saw her, it was all about the magic. Someone like him, someone he could know, someone his _magic_ could know. It was probably different for the Druids, growing up around one another, but for him, for Freya, for Morgana... it was rare to find someone like them. It was special. And magic... it wanted.

Magic was wonderful and overwhelming and liberating. Magic was also greedy and possessive and consuming. Magic _wanted_.

Sex with Morgana was all golden eyes and endless porcelain skin. Sex with Morgana was contradictory: her sharp, fierce sorcery and his eroding, steady magic. Her soft, fragile frame and his spindly, angular body. Their skin was the only thing that was remotely similar: boundless ivory pressed together. She was stunning, he knew, and was even more so with her dark curls spread across the pillows like spilt wine, and her rosy lips pushed against his. He'd been with a few girls post-Freya, but hurried encounters with maidservants in deserted alleyways or rundown houses on the outskirts of the citadel didn't quite match up with bedding the King's Ward in her ornate chambers. Merlin felt _beyond_ sinful.

He loved her, truly loved her. And she loved him. Ideally, their affection for each other would be romantic, but sadly not. It was just... straightforward. This would happen, just the once, because their magic wanted it. Because _they_ wanted it. And then they'd return to being friends once more, albeit much closer due to their shared secret. It made _sense_ , despite the fact that she was likely imagining supple curves and bronze skin beneath her hands and he was picturing golden hair and broad shoulders below him.

(Of course one day, he wouldn't have to picture it, and Morgana would prefer the willowy lines and alabaster complexion of pretty Princess Mithian, rather than remaining hopeless and yearning for someone she couldn't have. Happy endings were a possibility, but they just didn't know it yet. Settling for one another would do for now.)

"Arthur can't know about this," she said as he helped her redress.

"Yeah, I know. I'd prefer not to get murdered, thank you very much."

She spun to face him once her dress was done up, and smirked. "It's not you he'd murder."

"Morgana, you're like a sister to him. He'd _kill_ me if he ever found out," Merlin argued, and Morgana shook her head, still wearing a smug smile. "I'm _serious!"_

"And oblivious, it seems," she remarked, disregarding Merlin's glare. "I'm a grown woman. I may be like his sister but he lets me do what I want."

"I don't... I don't understand?"

She gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I know." He would've asked her to explain but she offered him some wine before he could, and, well. What harm could staying ten more minutes do?

A lot, apparently.

If only he'd at least decided to put his shirt on.

But Merlin was a damn idiot.

"What? I don't... What are you _doing_ here?" Arthur spluttered once he'd regained his voice after storming into Morgana's chambers, demanding to know if she'd seen his incompetent manservant. He'd obviously not expected to see a shirtless Merlin sharing wine with her.

"Um," Merlin searched desperately for words. "Drinking?"

"Without a shirt on?" Arthur asked. Merlin gnawed on his lip, trying not to look Arthur in the eye, but he could clearly see the moment the recognition spread on his face. "You... _You two?"_

Merlin turned helplessly to Morgana for assistance but it was to no avail, since all she did was sit there looking stricken, frozen in place as Arthur worked out what was going on. "Arthur I.. I'm sorry," she began, voice wavering.

"Morgana. You _know_ how I..." Arthur's voice cracked. He looked completely crestfallen, and Merlin didn't understand. Was Arthur in love with her? Merlin had thought they were more like siblings than lovers.

"It was a _mistake_ , Arthur, I'm _sorry_ , I wasn't _thinking_ ," Morgana justified frantically, standing and reaching for Arthur's arm.

"Forget it," Arthur snapped, turned on his heel, and stormed from her chambers. _Fuck_. Merlin jumped to his feet and scrambled after him, jogging down the corridor to catch up.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, we didn't mean anything by it, it just happened you see, we were only-"

"Shut _up_ , Merlin," Arthur commanded, not slowing his pace as he strode through the castle halls. "You have nothing you can say to me. Nothing I want to hear."

"But Arthur-"

" _God_ , Merlin, don't you understand an order when you hear one? Do you have to be so dense _all the time?"_ At Merlin's insulted huff he finally slowed, spinning to face Merlin, expression filled with resignation and misery- not fury, like Merlin had expected. Merlin's heart broke a little bit for him. If only _he_ understood how much Merlin wanted him, everyday. "You really don't get it, do you? At all?"

"Get what?"

"I..." Arthur gazed at him, the most sincere he'd ever been while talking to Merlin. His mouth was half open, frozen around unformed words. The moment pulled taut between them like a quivering string, so close to snapping, tight with tension. Merlin almost saw the exact moment Arthur changed his mind: he inhaled sharply, then swallowed, and shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

But it _did_.

Merlin would've asked again, but Arthur had already disappeared around the corner.  

  

 

> _vi. elyan_

 

The Knights were picturesque- the kind of brave to go down in history books. Merlin mostly hated this fact because they were also _huge prats._ Leon was perhaps the only decent one of them- or at least the only one with a surprising soft spot for Merlin. Which was the same thing, in Merlin's eyes.

(And Arthur's, he'd discover soon.)

The number of Knights kept growing each day, despite the unsteady but established peace throughout the Kingdoms. Morgana had confided in him that she feared Morgause might come for her one day to fill her head with more poisonous ideas, but it wasn't as if _Uther_ knew that. There was simply no _reason_ for the sudden expansion of Camelot's army. Then again, Merlin wasn't exactly interested in understanding what went on in Uther's head. But more Knights meant more swords, and more often than not, Arthur sent Merlin down to get them forged, meaning he was becoming quickly acquainted with Elyan. 

Not that Merlin was complaining.

Elyan was beautiful in all the ways Arthur wasn't. He was modest where Arthur was brash, taciturn where Arthur was ostentatious, gentle where Arthur was wild. Being with Arthur sometimes was an absolute, like the stark point of a knife or a raging storm. He was a sheer force of nature, the Once and Future King, an untamed beast of nobility and courage and altruism that made Merlin's hands ache to touch and his heart love itself raw. Being with Arthur was _draining_ sometimes. Elyan was a river, flowing ceaselessly but serenely, and Merlin could drift along their friendship like a tranquil body of water; untroubled and effortlessly. It was _simple_ with Elyan. Elyan numbed his intense longing for Arthur, even if it was just for a little while.

Perhaps it was because he was new, but Merlin found talking to him was the most engaging thing he'd done in a long while. Elyan would describe his tender-hearted father and Merlin would speak of his doting mother. Elyan would talk of his love for his work and Merlin would complain about his. They'd talk of the prettiest girls and most strapping Knights, which was nice for Merlin because he'd lost interest to talking to Gwen about these kinds of things. She used to be his main source for a conversation about love, but usually it derailed into a chat about _Lancelot_. Merlin missed him too, but honestly. Elyan was like his sister in that respect- fantastic at giving advice and a brilliant listener, but a little more reserved than her, and therefore less likely to ramble on about lost loves.

Elyan stopped him with a resolute hand on his chest the day Merlin moved to kiss him. "Alas, my heart belongs to another," he admitted remorsefully. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

"Fucking Leon," Merlin muttered under his breath, and stepped back. He'd seen him hanging around here a lot recently. "I didn't realise you were spoken for. I apologise."

"Oh, I'm not," Elyan explained. "Spoken for, that is. But he has my heart nonetheless."

"Is that _all?"_ Merlin asked, mildly surprised. "I don't see what the problem is. I'm in the same situation as you. It doesn't make me abstinent."

"I don't want him to find out," Elyan defended, and Merlin scoffed

" _Please_. He _won't_ , for starters, and even if he _did_ , you'd find out if he wanted you back soon enough." At Elyan's blank look, he rolled his eyes. "He'd get _jealous_ , idiot. At least then you'd know."

Elyan's brown furrowed as he processed Merlin's words. "I never thought of it like that," he concurred. "But I suppose... I suppose you could be right."

He closed the space between them and reciprocated, winding a hand into the back of Merlin's shirt and sighing into his mouth. He tasted vaguely of the metal he worked so well with, and the phantom taste settled at the back of Merlin's throat. Merlin shut his eyes, and was almost immersed in the familiar building feeling of kissing when Arthur rounded the corner in his usual raucous fashion. 

"Honestly _Mer_ lin, what's taking you so-" Arthur stopped short as he noticed them and Merlin stumbled back from Elyan, sheepishly grinning at Arthur.

"Sorry, Arthur. Got... distracted."

"Yes, I can _see_ that," Arthur hissed, marching over to grab Merlin roughly by the bicep. "Goodbye, Elyan, thank you for your services," he snapped, yanking Merlin away.

"But you didn't get the swords!" Merlin protested, wincing at the way Arthur released his arm with a shove, only to grasp the scruff of his neck, pushing him onward.

"I'll get them later!"

Merlin wanted to ask what exactly was wrong, but Arthur's furious tone and quick pace hindered him. What was his _problem?_ It wasn't as if Merlin was being any more useless than _usual_. Arthur didn't tend to react _this_ badly- normally he'd just huff at Merlin then let it go. But his fingernails were digging into Merlin's neck and he was walking so fast that Merlin could barely keep up. He was quite clearly upset about _something_.

"Ow!" Merlin shouted as Arthur gave him a particularly forceful push once they reached his chambers. "Why are you being so _mean?"_ He questioned, rubbing the back of his neck in an attempt to ease the pain.

"Because _you_ aren't getting your job done!"

"What else is new?"

Arthur exhaled noisily through his nose, obviously still fuming. "Forget it, Merlin. Go and polish my armour. Wash my clothes. Clean my room. Get out of my sight," he ordered with a wave of his hand towards the door, before turning away from Merlin and strolling to the window. _Wow_. Moping by the window. Whatever it was, it must've been serious.

"Arthur, what have I done wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Arthur-"

" _Nothing!"_

"It's obviously not _nothing!"_ Merlin stormed over to Arthur and pulled his shoulder round, forcing him to face him. He refused to meet Merlin's eyes. "You're being all distant and moody again! You're _always_ like this when I've been with someone- oh. _Oh_."

Arthur's head shot up, panicked and terrified, and it all clicked into place. The past few years, all the conversations that had transpired between them about love or sex, Merlin's words to Elyan...

_He'd get jealous, idiot._

"You're _jealous_ ," Merlin realised. "This _whole_ time... You were- you were jealous!"

"Merlin, I-"

"You could've just _said_ , Arthur. I would've found you someone."

His building hysteria faltered, and he paused, narrowing his eyes at Merlin. "Wait, what?"

"If you were jealous I was getting action and you weren't, then you could've just said. I would've helped you find someone. You don't have to be a virgin _forever_."

Arthur reddened, gaping at Merlin incredulously. " _That's_ not what I was jealous of," he spluttered. "Bloody hell, you really _are_ oblivious."

"I don't understand."

"You never _do_."

"If you aren't jealous of _that_ then what _are_ you jealous of?"

Cheeks still burning, Arthur shook his head fondly at him, eyes unusually soft and sweet, in that unguarded state Merlin occasionally caught them in when Arthur stared at him for too long. "I'm not going to spell it out for you, Merlin," he whispered, his quiet voice weaving threads of hushed tension between them. Arthur looked at him imploringly.

And Merlin knew.

"Oh," he murmured, dumbstruck. "You weren't jealous of _me_. You were jealous of _them_. Because..." Arthur clenched his eyes shut, jaw tight. "Because you want me."

"I'm sorry," Arthur croaked out.

"You've _always_ wanted me," he said, memories springing up as he spoke- Morgana, Gwaine, Freya, Will. Even as far back as _Lancelot_. His stomach jolted, like the physicalisation of a rug being pulled out from under him. This was Arthur. Arthur who Merlin had wanted since he'd nearly been married off to Princess Elena, and Merlin had realised what exactly he'd been losing. "You _want_ me."

"I _love_ you," Arthur corrected, and then gritted his teeth, evidently annoyed at letting his words slip out thoughtlessly. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

"Arthur," Merlin breathed, and stepped forward to kiss him before either of them could say anything else.

When their lips touched Arthur jolted, hands shooting to clutch helplessly at Merlin's waist in shock, clenching in the fabric of Merlin's shirt. He made a surprised sound into Merlin's mouth that sounded dangerously like a squeak, but Merlin knew he'd probably end up denying it ever happened. The sound of rowdy hooting and cheering filtering through the window made Merlin twitch, distracted, moving to pull away, but Arthur pulled him closer with an almost inaudible whimper, curling a hand into Merlin's hair and finally getting with the program, a little too late. Pushing at his shoulders, Merlin eventually extricated himself from the kiss, looking down to see Gwaine, Leon and Percival below, grinning up at them, delighted. Shit, did Arthur really have to confess his feelings by the window, where everyone could see?

"It's _Gwaine!"_ Merlin exclaimed in joy, knocking Arthur from the way he was staring at Merlin's lips, dazed, into a jealous scowl that Merlin was all too familiar with.

"Well if it's _Gwaine_ , why don't you go down and say hello," Arthur suggested sourly, causing Merlin to tut at him, pulling the curtains closed over the window and blocking their view of the men below. 

"Gwaine can wait."

Arthur softened.

(He may have been like the stark point of a knife or a raging storm on occasion, but around Merlin he melted. He softened. The Future King of Camelot, a fool for his manservant.

His court sorcerer actually, in a few years time.

Merlin would reveal himself with shaking hands and tears in his eyes and Arthur would _laugh_.

"I _know_ , you idiot. I've known for _years_ ," he'd say. "I knew you'd come to me about it eventually."

"How...?"

"We share a bed, _Mer_ lin. I know everything about you."

"You say that like I don't know everything about you!"

"Well, you don't."

"I know you're a prat."

He would dodge the gauntlet launched at his head expertly.

Arthur would still throw things at him, still get snappy with him and still treat him like an absolute idiot, sometimes. Merlin wouldn't have it any other way. It was just how they were- Merlin and Arthur, that kind of madly in love that made couples bicker and squabble until the sun came up. It didn't make them _lesser_. It just made them _them_. And Camelot would fall without them. But for now, it thrived. Gwaine would stay and Lancelot would return, and the Knights of the Round table would take their seats and pick up their swords. Things would fall into place.

Arthur would still get jealous. But now he wouldn't have a reason to.)

**Author's Note:**

> Morgana? Evil? haha what are you talking about get your weird au's away from me
> 
> anyway these two deserve a happy ending. fuck the BBC it always betrays me


End file.
